Fly Away
by xXRubyDiamondXx
Summary: She can't fly anymore. Not without Fang.


**I've been recently inspired by another fic I read the other day, so I decided to write this. My other stories are currently on hold. They're all on Maximum Ride and I'm not really into the series anymore… the last few haven't been very good or realistic like the first three were. Maybe I'll get back into the writing mood for them once the eighth one is out, but until then…I'm sticking to oneshots and might start writing Harry Potter stories so… here. This takes place a few weeks after Fang left.**

_Max_

I remember very clearly the day I first laid eyes on you, Fang. I remember how you tried to hold in the sound of your cries in the dead of the night…or maybe it was day, considering we were never allowed much light in the room all our cages were held in. I remember your ebony hair, greasy, iced with dirt and dried sweat. You smelled terrible as you were dragged by my cage and put in the one right next to mine, but then again, I smelled the same way, and also the same as everyone else and know no different smell. Not until Jeb took us all out, the Flock, I mean.

I remember that day too. I remember how we were the only ones who talked to each other, but only when no one else was around. I remember trying to stop my legs from rushing the rest of my body to your room in the middle of a storm in shear panic that I didn't know how to handle. I remember how angry I was every time I lost a practice fight with you, and how angry I was every time I won, but I hid it then. I know you let me win each time, I know because I could tell that on the times I lost, you easily dodged my hits with speeds far too fast to come at me so slow, even though it seemed to give me little time to get away.

I remember your voice, how it was here but never filled the halls of our house just weeks ago. You were always more comfortable quiet. Are you still? Of course you are, it's only been weeks since you left me… us. It feels like forever, and honestly, I hope it feels like it's been forever for you too. I won't be able to say this out loud, because before it comes out of my mouth I know I'll stop and say it's not true, but I hope you're feeling what I am now, but not for revenge. I can't stand to imagine you sitting in a tree crowded by others all around, and you staring out at the scenery, planning your next move, alone. I can't stand to see you in my mind, slowly and then faster, rising from your perch and nodding, telling the limbs of the trees that it's okay, you're okay. I hope you're not okay, but only because I can't stand to think that you've forgotten me.

_We're eleven, flying out under the stars, swooping and racing. I'm faster than you and I'm glad and not afraid to show it, but you smile, showing me you aren't upset. I'm secretly glad for that too, but I pout and turn away, because I'm sure you know what I'm really thinking anyway. You always do, after all. We hover together for a moment, looking for a place to land, and then you squint, look at me, and dive. I follow. You land perfectly and I'm angry as I land wrong on my ankle and try not to fall. I do anyway._

_I whimper a little, not used to the feeling, not used to landing like this. We only fly with Jeb watching us, as if he's the one with the raptor vision, and that's only in the day time, when we have miles to land. This was specific and I now know why you always pick a spot to land on and dive for it, instead of just lowering yourself like the rest of us who don't care where we land. I always just thought you were picky._

_You kneel by me and I tell you I'm fine and move to rise but you'll have none of it. _

"_Maybe I should get Jeb," you say. Then you realize you're stupidity. We're miles out and Jeb doesn't have wings, plus, we'd get in major trouble. Then I remember why. We only got out of the School last year, and with me being one of the first successful experiments, they're still looking for us, for me, the Erasers are probably out hunting right now. I hear a rustle and look up sharply. You don't and I know I'm being stupid. I'm starting to feel stupid with a lot of things I do in front of you lately. _

_You notice me looking, though, and you smile softly and look at me with gentle eyes. Neither of these things is something I see often, and I'm sure no one else has seen at all. This makes me smile back timidly._

"_If they were here they would've gotten us already." I notice you're voice has lowered to a whisper and it's deeper than it was last year. It's a small change, though, and I doubt anyone else has noticed. I wonder if you have. The words you say actually scare me more but I don't show it, I don't have to for you to notice. It's obvious you don't know what to say, you normally don't but that's okay, because you pull me to you and say, "I won't leave you."_

"_Promise," I tell you, because I know I don't have to ask and I know you will, and you do._

I _knew _you'd promise. And you did. I remember that too. I don't think you do, but I'm unsure of a lot of things right now. I look at the bag sitting innocently on my bed, bathed in the moonlight and stars shining and twinkling above innocently and I'm angry at them and I punch the bed. I look at what you're doing to me and I blame myself. It's probably all my fault. I think I've gone crazy and I think you do too. I'm angry at stars, after all. They didn't do anything and I think that's why I'm angry. They give me no one to blame but myself. You're not an option, see, you're that important to me. I'm sad that I'm not that important to you. Although, you said you'd left to protect me, said you were putting me in danger. Somehow I feel like I would be more open to the idea if there had actually been a day in my life when I was safe.

I pick up my bag. It's filled with little to nothing but it feels heavy to my sleep deprived body. But that's why I need to leave, you see. Just like you. I think I'm dying, inside and out, slowly. I don't eat; I don't sleep, not that I do anything that would make me tired. I haven't committed suicide, not when my life has been about trying to live this whole time, not when I'm expecting to wake up and have you back, not when I'm expecting to fly into the sky and meet you in the air as you race back, telling me it was the School, telling me it was a trick and by force you wrote that letter. Now I'm not sad. I'm angry, angry that after all you told me, you left me with a paper, ruined with black ink. I wonder why, even though I hate it so, I checked three times to make sure it's tucked safely in my bag, which I now notice is swinging annoyingly at my leg each time I take a step. I don't move it. There's no need.

I'm not sure there's a need for anything anymore. I don't know if I'll come back to the Flock even though part of me says to right now. They don't want me, though, they've made that quite clear, haven't they? So I walk away steadily in the dead of night. I walk and make no move to fly, like my body screams to do. I look up and see those stars, just twinkling and I hear the crickets and I stop. A sob escapes me. I look back, fighting the urge to look up again. I know if I do I'll fly, and I want to, but I feel like I don't deserve anything right now, because you're not a liar. I must have done something terrible, yet I don't know what. I just know it's my fault. But I know I won't be able to fly even if I do look up, no matter how hard I might try later, I won't. Not the way I want to.

Because you, Fang, are my right-wing man. I _can't_ fly anymore, not anywhere, and the fact that you were able to just jump off a cliff and fly away without a glance back, even though you might've been upset, angers me to my core. Maybe you are just a liar.

You're not coming back and you knew it. You've saved my life many times, and I've saved yours. I shared feelings with you that I've shared with no one else. The fact that you didn't share it with me, you didn't feel what I felt, no matter how many times I tell myself it's not true, just the _thought _of that is what hurts me the most. And as I cry as I tread slowly away, I wonder if, wherever you are, you're looking at the same cluster of stars, caring at all, that you're the one who's hurt me like no one else has before. And the thought makes my sobs become rougher, because deep inside, I know that you don't.


End file.
